


spiderman is sad but he has dads

by xX_sp1d3rm4n_Xx



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xX_sp1d3rm4n_Xx/pseuds/xX_sp1d3rm4n_Xx
Summary: peter is late home from school (and also sad) but then stephen comes to the rescue and helps him. tony is asleep. dad time.((there are some mild descriptions of injury also))





	spiderman is sad but he has dads

**Author's Note:**

> i dont expect anyone will read this, and id like to promise that this isnt as badly written as it is but idk if i can guarantee that. i dont know how ao3 works and ive never posted a fanfic before so please forgive me. i just like marvel and spiderman and wrote this at 1 am and do not know how to end things. i apologise.

“but i worry about him, tony, he’s just a kid-“ Stephen’s ears pricked up at the faint but unmistakable sound of a window sliding open. tony glanced over his shoulder. both men waited for peters door to swing open and for him to appear. nothing. stephen looked to the clock- 5:47pm.  
“he’s late,” tony said, eyes not leaving the door.  
“tony, don’t-“ but the man raised his hand to stop Strange from continuing. silence. tony raised an eyebrow at the man across from him... something was wrong. 

“maybe he had a bad day at school, you know how stressed he can get, especially with midterms coming up.” but stephen’s reasoning fell on deaf ears.  
“first he’s late, and then he doesn’t even come to explain! no text! no nothing! not a peep, stephen-“ tony’s sudden outburst cut off by despairing hushes, his eyebrows knitting together, as stephen grasped their hands together.  
“i’m sorry, i just worry so much about him...” tony said shakily.  
“i know,” stephen said softly, “i’ll talk to him.” 

stephen made his way to peters bedroom door. he placed a hand on the doorknob, shifting his weight nervously, when a floorboard creaked underfoot.  
‘shit.’ his cover was blown. a thwip could be heard from inside, and some hurried rustling. strange opened the door, noticing a web stuck next to the handle. peters attempt to keep him out. the curled up form of peter under his sheet faced firmly towards the wall.  
“peter...” stephen said softly, “peter, what’s wrong?”  
radio silence. the man took a step forward, and saw peter’s body stiffen from under the blanket. he exhaled, stepping back, and slowly closed the door.

sighing, stephen collapsed on the sofa next to tony, lacing their fingers together.  
“no luck?” tony said, between a sip of coffee. stephen could feel the mans hand shake anxiously despite is calm demeanour. shaking his head, stephen closed his eyes, defeated.  
“he’ll come round...” tony attempted to reassure stephen, but his voice shook a little. they both knew this wasn’t right. 

sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. stephen looked over at the clock; 20 minutes had passed. he chewed on his nails nervously- peter still had not appeared. tony was slumped over, exhausted. the sight of the purple shadows under his eyes made stephen feel worse; he was already overwhelmed by the workload of a new set of suits for the avengers. now the concern for peter plagued them both.  
a barrage of worried thoughts filled stephen’s head, ‘do i disturb him? no, no i shouldn’t, he’ll be okay. but what if he’s not?’  
he stood up, his body moving before his mind could catch up, heading for peters room. 

he knocked softly, waiting for something, anything. but he was met with nothing.  
“peter... it’s me, please let me in.”  
“i’m fine,” his voice was muffled, but stephen could hear it waver.  
“peter, please, i just want to talk to you.” he swallowed hard, a hand resting on the door handle.  
the silence dragged on for what felt like hours, until,  
“okay... just give me a minute.” relief washed over stephen, he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. 

the door opened a crack, enough to see half of peters face. tears stained his cheek, and his eye was ringed with a bruise. stephen could feel his stomach knotting itself up again, a new wave of worry making him feel nauseous. 

peter stood in his pyjamas, arms covered in bruises and scrapes. he was hunched, almost doubled over in pain, holding his side. his knuckles were bloody and scabbed, nose bent at an odd angle. stephen’s mouth dropped open. black eye, broken nose, split lip...  
“what happened?”

“i was just trying to help, but there was tons of guys. they were so big, and they were wearing black, black ski masks, they were trying to break into the bank on 24th, and i had to stop them because no one else was there, but there was just too many of them and-“ peter gasped for breath, his voice shaking, dangerously close to tears. stephen grasped his hand,  
“take a breath peter.” he gulped, blinking tears from his eyes before continuing. 

“they just... hit me...” he said, barely audible. his lip wobbled, prompting a fresh drop of blood to flower from the split. he heaved for breath, trying to suppress the urge to burst into tears, until it was all too much. he sobbed, shaking violently, body wracked with tears. 

stephen held him, chin resting on his head as he attempted to comfort him. slowly calming down, peter rubbed the tears from his eyes. he looked up at stephen, giving him a wobbly smile. a drop of blood trickled down from his nose, and he wiped it away with the palm of his hand.  
“we need to get you cleaned up,” stephen said. he waved his hand, a glowing orange mandala appearing, opening up into a portal. he reached inside, pulling out medical supplies from the bathroom cabinet. peter smiled, his face bathed in an orange glow. 

“and I think... we’re done,” stephen dabbed away the last remnants of blood from peters nose. it pained him to see peter covered in bruises and scrapes, but he’d done his best. the cuts were less red, bruises less swollen, and nose no longer crooked. finally stephen could see how tired peter was. the purple shadows prominent under his eyes. 

“you need a cup of tea,” said stephen, peter nodding his head, yawning slightly. 

stephen entered the living room, a cup of tea in hand. he looked over to see peter curled up, asleep on the sofa. tony had his arm round the boy, snoring softly. stephen smiled, placing the mug down on the table, before wrapping a blanket round them both and settling in the armchair opposite, book in hand.


End file.
